A Boy and His Car
by Mathais
Summary: A young man goes for a ride with his car and the events that led him there.
1. A Boy and His Car

Story Title: A Boy and His Car

Author: Mathais

Rating: T

Fandom: Power Rangers

Warnings: None

Pairings: None

Summary: A young man goes for a ride with his car.

Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers and the things associated with it; they belong to either Saban or Disney now, not sure which.

Notes: Belated Christmas-turned-New Year's-gift to Tsukino Akume because her wish list gave me the plot bunny for this story, and with her stories she totally deserves it. I'm not sure this counts as good, but it has Justin, so, enjoy~

**OoOoO**

Justin dropped the last sponge with a happy sigh, shifting his neck to ease the cricks. Taking a moment to brush his bangs out of his eyes, he smiled at his handiwork. Fingers trailing over the smooth body, cupping down the side, over the buffed finish. Every little bit of work he'd done himself, he admired with a gentle hand.

The motor let out a little purr, and Justin chuckled.

"I'm glad you like it too."

A series of whirs and beeps answered him, and Justin cocked his head to the side. "But you just got clean!"

Insistent honks answered.

"Aw come on, I just spent—"

A long, loud horn cut him off, enough so that a voice shouted down from above. "Keep it down!"

"Sorry!" Justin shouted back, just as the horn stopped. He frowned down at his car, which had its mirrors tilted just right for a stubborn look. "You know that you shouldn't—" He froze at the soft hum, barely audible but constant. The mirrors pointed upward, and, slowly, Justin did as well. His Adam's apple convulsed as he tried to summon his best glare, but briefly, just briefly, the volume increased.

He dropped his hand down on the hood. "All right, all right! Let me change into something acceptable," he groused.

The lights flickered on almost smugly, and he swatted the side.

"Don't get too cocky," Justin called back as he left. "Storm Blaster? **I'm** driving."

The headlights turned on for a brief moment, but the door was already swinging shut.

Not too longer later, Justin had his hands firmly on the wheel as he steered his jeep through the streets and navigated the city. The wind blowing across his face, ponytail flying in the wind... He never, ever got tired of the feeling, especially since he so rarely got to do it in Storm Blaster.

"Just a little farther," Justin murmured when the engine suddenly revved.

Once everything bled away and nothing but the wind, sun, and open road, Justin leaned back and made sure his seatbelt was secure. He took his hands off the wheel and then... relaxed.

"Needed this, didn't you?"

Storm Blaster's horn turned into a soft purr, and Justin couldn't help but grin at the sheer delight. The jeep around him shifted and wavered until Storm Blaster's true form emerged. Blue, bright shining blue, with the Turbo logo proudly displayed on the side—fondness crept into his smile.

"How was the latest one? How'd you look?"

Justin normally asked few questions when Storm Blaster came back from his various dealings with Ranger teams (in a small, secret part of his heart, he was crazy jealous about them), but he'd look so dented and damaged this time that he couldn't hold back his questions. Running his hands over the steering wheel, he could feel Storm Blaster almost tense up before he briefly sighed.

The frame flickered a bit and then smoothed out in a deep green. The steering wheel was a little higher, the seats a little larger, and an unfamiliar crest adorned the side—but the soul beneath it all was still the same. It was still Storm Blaster. Storm Blaster honked, and Justin understood.

He was finally ready to talk.

This would take a bit more than their usual communication. Justin knew he was special in this regard; he was one of the few who could instinctively understand what Storm Blaster was trying to say. And, when he opened his mind, he could understand Storm Blaster on a much deeper level. After they'd gotten their partners back, he and TJ had talked about the issue, which they subsequently decided never to reveal to anyone else. There was something too special, too _intimate_ about it to discuss lightly, and even then they only did it in hushed tones (as well as one spectacular case involving too much alcohol for the underage pair that'd gotten Tommy _so_ pissed off at them).

And so, closing his eyes, Justin placed his forehead against the wheel and opened his mind to the little bit of it that he come to associate with Storm Blaster.

Images, blurred around the edges and flashing by so fast that Justin wasn't sure he could get them, raced through his mind along with bits and pieces of emotion. Everything that Storm Blaster saw, everything that he felt—all of it went into him as smoothly as if they were his. He saw laughter and pain, joy and sadness. He felt Storm Blaster's anger, felt his sorrow, and felt his desire to protect rise. Green rising strong and proud, sniping with the one unhurt hand as they raced through the battlefield as one. Watching as Megazords, as magnificent as the Turbo and Rescue Megazords, fought with all their might, combining into one filled with strength and light. Jubilation and elation as the light overtook the giant Megazord and the enemy disappeared into the rainbow.

Sadness as the Rangers teleported down, drained and half-dead. Pushed away as the support crew came in, unable to do anything and brushed aside when trying to help. Relief at the recovery, but still staying only long enough to know that partner was all right. An intense desire to recuperate somewhere safe with someone else.

Justin shuddered in place and drew in a deep breath as reality snapped back into place. Unable to release his iron grip on the steering wheel, Justin let his tears fall without care.

"Storm Blaster," he murmured.

Storm Blaster honked with none of his usual vigor.

"It's all right. It'll be all right."

For the first time, Justin realized how lonely Storm Blaster could get. Not many planets knew how special Storm Blaster was—and here he was, traversing the stars with only Lightning Cruiser as company, carrying all of this inside. The pain of not being acknowledged by the very people he helped save, to be pushed aside, if unknowingly, by his team.

Justin knew it well.

"...I was the same way. A while ago." He leaned back in the seat, though he never lost the tactile contact with the steering wheel. "Back during that year. Longer than that."

His grip on the wheel tightened. "I was in pain and I was alone with it. Even as I came back with you, I hated everything to do with the Rangers. I hated the suit I wore, and I absolutely hated the color blue." Justin focused on his words, because he didn't think he could hold off the burn in his eyes without it.

"It took a while to get over it. I had friends though, friends outside of the Power who helped me along even without knowing the true reason. They stuck by me and never let go even when I shouted and cursed at them." Inadvertently, Justin's mouth twitched upward. "You know, the first time Fred was on the receiving end of that, he socked me in the face before paying for my lunch?"

Storm Blaster's horn blared in his rough approximation of a suppressed chuckle, and Justin did as well. "Nico kicked me in the shin and then bought me dinner. Kayla grabbed my ear and only let me go when we were at the Surf Spot."

"They were there for me when I didn't trust anyone at all. They stood by my side no matter how I tried to get them to leave like everyone else. Kayla wouldn't even let Rocky near me for a good half-year. Fred made Tommy's life miserable whenever he came near me, and you really don't what to know what Nico did to Adam using toothpaste, chicken feathers, and lemon drops."

"And just as they were there for me, I'm here for you Storm Blaster."

Though their pace never slowed, Justin could feel Storm Blaster mull this over. And when he rumbled softly, a full-bodied shiver that trailed up Justin's spine, Justin knew his answer.

"Yeah."

Trailing his hand down the car's side, Justin felt a grin appear on his face. "You know what? Let's run. Let's run as far and as fast as we can. You know you need it too."

Storm Blaster's lights flashed in agreement, and Justin twisted his wrist to make his morpher appear. Without the gratuitous hand gestures, he slid the key into the bracelet, twisting it definitively.

"Shift into Turbo!"

And his whoop of exhilaration mixed with loud honks as all that was left was a blue blur speeding off into the distance.


	2. A Boy and His Car: Fred's Side

Story Title: A Boy and His Car: Fred's Side

Series Title: A Boy and His Car

Author: Mathais

Rating: T

Fandom: Power Rangers

Warnings: None

Pairings: None

Summary: Fred would never let anything get between him and his friends, former mentor or said friend be damned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers and the things associated with it; they belong to Saban.

**OoOoO**

"No."

Fred's arm was steady as it barred access into the room. He had known that this time would come, and, to be frank, it had scared the crap out of him, but he surprised himself with how calm he was. He stared up at someone who had once been his mentor and tightened his lips. "No," he repeated.

Tommy stared back. "I need to see him."

Fred quelled the bitter laugh that rose in his chest and instead turned it into a twist of his lips. "He doesn't want to see _you_."

"Look, Fred, I know—"

"And just _what_ do you know?" Fred snapped as irritation and indignation welled up in him. "He doesn't want to see you, end of story."

"And if I don't see him, we can't fix whatever's broken," Tommy quietly said.

He forced back the tears in his eyes. "And don't you think it hurts enough already?" Acid burned in his tone.

"Fred," Tommy began in a steely tone. He reached forward to bodily move him out of the way.

Fred _moved_ when Tommy left himself open and buried his fist into Tommy's gut. Tommy sunk to the ground with a pained cry, but Fred didn't care. "No, you won't get by."

Tommy got to his feet with a grimace. His face was set in stubborn stone, but when Fred raised his fists and fell into a loose fighting stance, he seemed to reassess his plan of action. Tommy nodded sharply and warned, "This isn't over."

"I'll be here again," Fred replied, tone just as hard.

They locked gazes for a second longer before he turned and left.

Fred shuddered as he quite nearly sank to his knees. God, he knew that if Tommy had pushed, Fred would've been tossed to the side easily. But he would've made enough noise to draw everyone's attention, and rumors be damned. Tommy was not getting close enough, not yet. So he steeled his resolve and put on his best smile and went back into the room.

Justin looked up and said shortly, "I don't need a protector."

The fake smile slipped off his face. "I know."

"Then why?" His voice was cold and more than a little angry, but it disappeared when Fred replied.

"Because I'm your friend." Fred slipped back into his chair and desperately wished he had his cap so that he could cover his eyes. "I'm your friend Justin, so if I can help you out in any way, I will."

Fred tried to find the problem he left off at when he saw Tommy coming in the silence that followed. He was about to reach for his pencil when Justin said, "Thank you," sincerely. Fred looked up and noticed the way that Justin softened, the way that the tension around his eyes loosened and that his lips quirked into a half-smile that so familiar because, for so long, it was the best that they'd gotten out of him, and he definitely had to choke back the tears as he looked back down. "I could have handled it though. I could have told him—"

"—but he doesn't deserve to talk to you!" Fred burst out without meaning to. "He doesn't fucking deserve to meet you, not after the way he just left you. Not after the way they all just left and came back like nothing, expecting things to be all right! He didn't have to deal with it all." The words just launched themselves from his mouth, and he didn't dare look up to see what effect they had on Justin. "The sleepless nights worrying, all the things we did to get you outside and doing something other than locking yourself in a lab or at the gym, all of the anger and the silences." He felt Justin slide his arms around him, and it gave him the strength to say, "He didn't have to organize a fucking suicide watch because we were all so scared that you hated everything too much."

Arms tightened in shock, and he heard Justin whisper, "Fred..."

"He just can't come back after all this time without anything and expect things to be fine, that he has the right to do so," Fred said hoarsely. "He just can't."

He was held, trembling, by Justin as he sobbed quietly. Just having this comfort, just having Justin even strong enough to do this for him—it was more than any of them could have asked.

"I'm sorry, Fred." Justin's voice was just a whisper in his ear. "For putting you all through this trouble."

"We care too much to let you go," he said.

"And I thank you guys for it. I never hated the world enough for that, but... You guys gave me faith again. Especially you, Fred. You gave me that first push."

Fred remembered that day very vividly.

**OoOoO**

"No more excuses," Fred said as he tore off the covers. "No more waiting."

"Fuck you," Justin spat out, now revealed as curled up on his bed in nothing but a loose pair of boxers. "Get out of here!"

Fred crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Or what?"

"Just, fuck you."

Fred stared down at his friend, at the defiant gaze and the pain with it, and his lips curled into an uncommon sneer. "You only wish. You're getting up, and you're getting out of here. I'm tired of this, Justin."

"Then just leave! Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone!"

"I can't," he said calmly. "I won't."

Justin continued to curse him out with language that grew more acidic by the second, but Fred weathered it all with a calm look and an arched brow. He was not intimidated by the _boy_ sitting on the bed with tousled hair, even if that boy was far more muscular than him.

"Son of a bitch, just leave me alone!"

Justin's head was snapping back before he even realized he'd moved, and then came the delicious burn in his knuckles from the right impact against flesh. Fred's face still held its calmness, but there was a flicker of anger in his eyes. "Say what you want about me, but don't you _dare_ talk about my mom like that."

Justin's jaw was beginning to swell, but he still managed to mutter, "Sorry."

"Now get your ass out of bed." Fred punctuated his statement by reaching over and tugging at Justin's wrist. "We're going out for lunch."

Justin didn't say anything, for a moment Fred thought that he'd refuse, but he slipped out of bed and was headed to the bathroom not long after.

Fred busied himself by grabbing some clothes for Justin. He immediately dismissed any blue that remained, not after the fit that Justin went through where he tore and burned most of his blue clothing. God, he still remembered the utterly broken look in his eyes that day when they discovered him, utterly silent, surrounded by the scraps of shirts and jeans. He found an orange shirt that looked like it had once belonged to Nico as well as some black cargo pants that Fred recognized as a pair he'd left during their last sleepover and took those along with a pair of black boxers as he camped outside of the bathroom. When Doug Stewart walked out of his room and looked at him, Fred met his gaze evenly. The hand Doug placed on his arm was reassuring, and Doug wordlessly left.

Bolstered by this silent faith, Fred continued to sit in front of the door and listened to the sound of running water. When it stopped, Fred waited for a few moments before Justin opened the door with a towel around his waist. He handed the clothes over without speaking, and a few minutes later Justin was out and dressed, though his hair was still flecked with water.

"Your hair's getting long," Fred chuckled.

A ghost of a smile flittered across Justin's face before he said, "I like it like this."

Emboldened by his success, Fred ran his hand through the wet locks, which was followed by Justin's indignant squawk, and then he impulsively grabbed Justin's wrist to drag him down the stairs. "C'mon! After Danny got off of his high horse about proper diet, he said he found this awesome place downtown to eat. You like burgers, right?"

"Yeah," Justin said softly.

"So yeah, we're going to head down there to grab some food. Later, Mr. Stewart!" Fred hollered back as they headed out into the sunlight. Continuing his grip on Justin's arm, Fred continued to talk about anything that came to mind as they headed through town. He talked about classes and homework, about events that were happening at Angel Grove Junior High and various other things to fill the silence. His words were met with either indifference or silence, but every so often he'd get the barest hint of a smile in the faint twist of his lips, and he'd continue to chatter on just to see it again.

It wasn't long before they'd sat down at a somewhat secluded booth and ordered. Justin was fiddling with the straw on his glass of water when Fred spoke.

"No more games, Justin. What's up?"

"Nothing's the matter," he replied. "I just want to be alone."

"Bullshit." Nice wasn't going to cut it anymore. They'd spent far too long taking shifts outside of his door without success for it to work. Fred normally didn't get angry, and, hell, he wasn't, but he knew that if this went for much longer—nothing good would come. "Bullshit, Justin. Something's eating at you, and I want to know what." Seeing the firm line Justin's mouth had pressed into, Fred continued, "I know it has something to do with your friends. Nico nearly cried the last time he brought up Carlos." The name caused Justin to flinch, something that Fred couldn't help but notice and didn't comment on. "I haven't seen Tommy or the rest much either; I know Rocky and Adam are waiting until fall semester to start at AGU but they're still around." He somewhat kept in contact with that group of high school students he'd met ages ago, but inwardly he seethed when each name brought out more anger.

"What'd they do to you...?"

Something shifted in Justin's eyes, and he'd opened his mouth when a waitress came by carrying their orders. Fred cursed silently when Justin closed up again and began to pick at his food. All that work—!

As he slowly ate his own burger, Fred waited to Justin to speak. But Justin didn't seem to be inclined to, and the meal passed in silence. Justin looked to protest when Fred plopped the last of his fries onto his plate and intercepted the bill in a smooth move.

Eyes hard, Fred asked once more when the waitress walked away, "What did they do to you?"

"They fucking left me alone when I needed them," he hissed with such venom that Fred was taken aback. "No calls, no messages, _nothing_. I couldn't... I needed someone to talk to, and they all just left, and I don't see them, or they ignore me, or I can't even get close enough to do anything. I need—_needed_—to talk them, and they just..." A growl rumbled low in his throat. "Fuck them all, they all just left like everyone else, even though they _promised_."

Fred looked at him and frowned as anger swirled at the back of his mind. "I'm still here. We're still here. We'll be here for you."

"For how long? For how fucking long before you leave me like everyone else I ever cared about?" demanded Justin. And all of a sudden, Fred saw. He saw the hurt that lay beneath the anger and the pain, and he saw to the raw little boy beneath the child prodigy. Fred moved to spoke, opened his mouth to say something, anything, when horror and shame flittered across those eyes and Justin abruptly stood and ran out.

Burying his face in his hands, Fred wondered how he could have missed this as he silently tried to hold back his tears.

**OoOoO**

"You guys were there for me," Justin said. "I'm... better now."

"I'm not—we're not—letting you see them until you're really ready," Fred declared. "Screw everything else."

"And I thank you for that," he whispered.

No, Fred would never let those who had inflicted Justin so much harm come back near him yet. Not after they'd spent so long putting him back together, not when they didn't even understand what they did wrong—and not until Justin had more than glue filling in the cracks.

Justin was his _friend_, and he'd do anything to keep him alive, whole, and hopefully, in the future, even happy.


	3. A Boy and His Car: Nico's Side

Story Title: A Boy and His Car: Nico's Side

Series Title: A Boy and His Car

Author: Mathais

Rating: T

Fandom: Power Rangers

Warnings: None

Pairings: None

Summary: If there was one thing Nico was good at, it was revenge. And babble.

Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers and the things associated with it; they belong to Saban.

Notes: This story is heavily influenced by AM83220, who acted as my soundboard and plot-bunny spawner. He also gave me a direction to take this piece in, and a lot of the scene comes from his ideas. He's so evil too! Do you know how many plot bunnies he's cooked up for me? I'm dying here under the onslaught! Go read his "The Icarus Reversal" if you have time! It starts off dark and gritty, but it gets better, and best of all—it features Justin! If he's one of your favorite characters, it's a must read!

**OoOoO**

Nico drew stares as he paraded down to the Surf Spot with a backpack bulging to the brim with feathers. Every so often, one escaped to drift lazily to the ground, but he didn't care.

Oh no, this would be glorious.

Letting loose a cackle that caused nearby pedestrians to flinch, Nico shifted the buckets he held in his hands and whistled cheerfully as he continued on.

No one could stop him. He even promised Adelle he'd do all of the clean up after! She gave him the evil eye, sure, and frowned disapprovingly, but she made no other attempts to make him stop so he figured that he was in the clear.

Not that it would have stopped him, really, but it was one less obstacle.

His revenge was at hand.

Well, technically not his—it was revenge for someone else. But, really, it was totally his revenge! Maybe he was getting revenge for the trouble they caused him by making his friend all pouty and emo...? No, that'd make him a bad friend, wouldn't it?

He shouldn't think like that.

He promptly decided that this was payback for making him cry. Because they're the ones who made his friend react like that, which made him cry, so, really, it was completely their fault. And if it made Justin smile again, then that was just a side benefit.

He totally wasn't doing this for Justin. Not at all.

This was revenge for the indignity he'd suffered!

...the indignity of having been seen in tears with snot trailing out of his nose, maybe, but indignity all the same!

This time, Nico's cackle was maybe a touch sheepish, and people went from flinching to staring at him instead, but he was used to it. Except, really, he should have been watching the road, because in the middle of a perfectly good cackle, he tripped over an upraised section of the sidewalk.

Stupid sidewalk, getting in the way of his dramatic laughter. You just didn't do that! He should come back with a mallet or something.

But that didn't help him as he was tripping ass over teakettle trying desperately to balance the load in his arms.

"Fffffff—" the curse stilled on his lips when strong arms righted him, though a few lemon drops managed to escape from his buckets. Looking up at his savior, the thanks on his lips died in a similar manner when he actually _looked_.

Adam was saying something, but Nico was far too busy fighting the wave of dread that swamped him.

No—! He couldn't be here! Not with the evidence of his not-set-up-prank!

One of the cardinal rules of a prankster—never get caught! Plausible (or, at times, implausible with a hint of cash) deniability! No matter how many witnesses _saw_ him carrying all this stuff, no one could ever prove it was him! Not with the "art" sculpture he had at home containing all the ingredients. People were supposed to look at it and then pat him on the head, saying he'd done a good job in that strange voice he'd heard from people the last time he'd tried doing "art" with gumdrops, frosting, and copious, copious amounts of bubble wrap.

But it's all ruined now! His target was onto him! His target... who was speaking to him. "—Nico...? Nico? Are you all right?"

Wait, he had an out! Plausible deniability! And one of the fallback plans of any prankster!

Distract, Nico! Distract like you've never distracted before!

"Hi Adam!" he chirped. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. You all right there? You were kind of... dazed. You been eating enough?" Adam asked, looking him up and down.

Hey, who was he calling some scrawny wimp who could barely hold himself up? He had actual muscle now! He'd fought hard for that muscle!

**OoOoO**

Nico stared warily at the machines around him. They were kind of... imposing. And big. And there were all these huge guys always crowded around them whose arms were wider than his legs.

It made a guy feel inadequate. He had this urge to stick out his tongue and release a glitter bomb.

Nico nearly set one off anyway when, even over the din of metal hitting metal, there was a loud crash. Just barely stopping himself from doing so (because, really, even if he was good at hiding the bomb itself, he wasn't so hot at setting it off unnoticed), Nico grimaced.

"You don't have to be here, you know," Justin said, his tone dry.

Nico shook his head rapidly. "No, no. I want to be here!" Stupid muscle heads on steroids with their giant arms and chests aside. But Justin was _here_ so _here_ was where he intended to be.

A ghost of a smile crossed Justin's face, disappearing as quickly as it had come. "Thanks."

Stunned silent for a moment, Nico could only gape and nod. Averting his eyes when Justin began to change (though he cried inside when he saw how buff Justin was compared to him—really, not fair at all!), Nico himself started changing into some loose clothes when Justin asked, "Do you have a workout routine?"

A workout routine...? People actually planned this stuff? Oh wait, like soccer drills.

Duh.

"Ah, no, I think I'll just... follow you?"

"You sure? I mean, I'm not a beginner at this, and..."

No, no. Nico would _not_ be a burden. "It's totally fine! I'll just do what you do!"

Justin shrugged, and that same ghost smile appeared again as he said, "All right. We're going to start with a quick run."

Right. Running. That was something he could do, bless his interest in soccer. Nico grinned and nodded as he followed Justin toward the indoor track.

Nearly ten minutes later, Nico felt like he was dying. No, the burning, the pain! Where had his adrenaline gone?

He decided that all those overly muscled steroid monsters must have stolen it. Stupid, evil adrenaline-stealing muscle jocks. He should leave a surprise for taking all his energy from him. But, first, he had to catch his breath.

Oh god, his lungs were on fire. Back against the cool ground, he nearly glared when Justin, traces of faint amusement on his face, filled his vision.

"You all right there, Nico?"

Or maybe it was Justin who took it. Evil Justin who stole all his energy, probably to set that punishing pace. Damn him for barely even breathing hard while he suffered on the ground.

Dammit. And Justin was one of the people he couldn't take revenge on. Damn it all. Especially because he needed Justin's help to complete his plans for world domination. Everyone with designs on the world needed a mad scientist after all. For some quality of mad at any rate. It was not that he was a friend and he had this thing about pranking on friends (especially friends who could probably see it coming from a mile away) but the principle of the matter.

"Hey, Nico...?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Nico said when Justin's words finally made their way to his ears. "Um, I just..."

That same ghost of a smile appeared again, backed by genuine amusement, as Justin offered his hand. Nico took it gratefully and got to his feet. Now that he had his wind back, of course, it was easier. He had awesome recovery times! "So, what's next?"

"Mhm," Justin looked considering for a moment before he nodded. "To the barbells then."

Nico listened with rapt attention as Justin demonstrated how to do the barbell curls properly with a light weight. As Nico took over from him, gingerly taking it in hand, he focused on doing each rep correctly, curling his arm in and then fully extended his limb as he dropped the weight.

Once he was done, he nearly dropped the barbell when he saw Justin doing the exact same exercise with a bigger, way bigger, weight. As he watched Justin's biceps bulge, all he could think was—unfair! Totally unfair! He totally didn't look it, but Justin was packed with really dense muscle that he hid with loose clothing.

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid muscles. Maybe he should take up martial arts as well if it got him those.

But wait... Maybe Justin could do a muscle job too when he conquered the world. Even mad scientists need breaks too! It'd save some salary money too, if he was one of the head guards too (but he promised that position to Kayla, right? Or did she want head torturer?). Oh wait, Justin was finishing now.

When Justin put his weight onto the ground, Nico asked, "How come my weight's so much smaller than yours?"

Justin looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Well, when you first start out, the most important thing is getting the form down right. Once you have that, you can move onto the heavier weights."

Looking down at his own weight, which had to be at least twenty pounds lighter than Justin's, Nico had to concede that point. Picking it up again and working on his new set, Nico then figured that maybe, once he got used to it, he could use weights that were close to Justin's!

He discreetly peered at Justin's arms and then compared it to his own.

Yeah, and maybe pigs would fly (oh wait, wasn't there a monster who did that?), the moon would have an atmosphere (ah, he forgot about Rita and Zedd), and he could do a triple backflip (he could only do one. Well, one-and-a-half, and he was proud of it! Just, maybe not the bruises from it).

Nico grumbled as he finished his sets and the following exercises, aided only by his musings about whether Justin would even have the time to complete his death ray (all overlords needed death rays, right?) if he worked as a chief guard as well. The thought, combined with wondering if he would be able to take out the Power Rangers (he personally was a huge fan of Blue Turbo and might not be quite so willing to fight him if he ever came back) when they inevitably challenged his rule, helped him through the next couple of exercises. At their end, his arms felt like they were going to fall off—well, they would feel like such after he regained some feeling in them at any rate.

"Okay," Justin finally declared, "we're going to finish with bench presses."

Just when Nico was going to ask, Justin led him over to one of the benches. This time, Justin didn't bother to set any weights as he lay down on the bench. "Watch closely, all right? This is what you do."

Nico watched as Justin pumped the bar slowly up and down, touching his chest each time. Well, it looked kind of easy, right? It didn't look too hard. When Nico lay down on the bench, he saw Justin move behind him and began correcting his positioning. When it was to Justin's satisfaction, Nico reached up and performed the same exercise, with light weights attached to each end.

He rethought his actions when he actually completed the exercise. The first few reps were all right, but they quickly bled into pure torture afterward. Torture! Only one set in, and his chest was burning. Again, he looked in jealousy as Justin added some more weight and began his own set. He almost envied Justin's slow, steady reps and deep concentration; God knew that he himself could rarely focus on one thing before he moved onto another—plans for his domination on Earth aside.

When he swapped in, he barely managed to complete his second set, and during his third, his arms just refused to move. The first couple went by all right, but around the middle of his set, it just wouldn't work. He pushed and pushed and pleaded, because he really needed to show Justin that he could do this. If he could do this, then Justin wouldn't—

It was one more place he could be with him.

"One more," he whispered to himself. "Just one more. You can do it, Nico."

Nico almost didn't hear it; the voice was that soft. But accompanying his litany was a faint voice that said, "Just raise your arms a little higher. You can do it. Just _push_."

Was that—? In spite of the pain and exhaustion, Nico began to grin a touch maniacally. Oh yes, it was. Justin, who had barely given him an encouraging word the entire time, was saying he could do it. Justin... Did Justin believe in him? Oh hell yes—he'd take this and run.

Nico pushed and pushed with all his strength and managed to complete his final rep. Exhausted enough to need Justin's help to rack the weight, he took a moment to let it all soak in. His arms hurt. His chest burned. He was covered in sweat.

But he felt good. Very good. Dead tired though. So very tired, maybe Justin wouldn't mind if he took a nap...?

Nico shook his head wildly. No no, bad place to sleep.

By the time Justin finished his own set and said that they were finished, the final adrenaline rush had faded from Nico. He couldn't... He was so tired. He dragged his feet as he headed back to the lockers to change. Nico found that he could barely muster the energy to speak.

It wasn't a comforting feeling, but...

It could be far worse.

Once the two of them were outside, Nico had only one to say.

"When's the next time you're going?"

Justin looked struck dumb at the question. But, for once, Nico was serious. He was tired as hell, yes, but if this was where Justin was, then this is where he'd be.

And he knew it was the right choice when Justin actually smiled. Not just one of those weak things he gave every so often, but a true smile.

**OoOoO**

"Nico!"

Nico snapped out of his flashback so violently that he almost upturned himself once more, saved again only by Adam's hand.

"I'm fine. I'm totally fine!" Nico said. "I'm working on some art!"

Ah, there was that look again. Nico vaguely remembered showing Adam one of his old projects, so that might have some sort of meaning.

"That's, erm, good." Adam blinked and shook his head. "Anyway, watch where you're going next time."

"No problem!" Nico grinned. "What are you doing anyway?"

"I'm out shopping and then I'm heading over to the Surf Spot." Adam glanced down at this watch, which was awesome because Nico wasn't sure if any hint of his plans made it onto his face—his poker face needed a bit of work. "I need to get going though."

"I'll see you later!" Nico waved one arm despite the bucket still in hand and continued on his way as the poor, poor fool left.

But, yay, the distraction worked! Nico couldn't help the grin that crossed his face, the sight of which caused Justin to flinch when Nico met up with him not long after.

"Um, should I start running now?" Justin asked, wary.

"Oh, no, not you!" Trust Justin to misunderstand his smile, but Nico was undeterred! After all, his target remained unaware, and the subject of his secondary (_secondary_, he told himself. Pranksters were good at distracting themselves too) objective was right here.

"Does this have anything to do with why you wanted to head to the Surf Spot with me?" Wariness was still prevalent in his voice, but Nico noted that there was a faint... affection (maybe?) hidden underneath. But that was all right!

"Yes, yes it does."

"...and the camera?"

"Totally worth it."

Justin was silent for a few moments as they walked. Finally, finally, a grin crossed his lips as Nico's proved to be too infectious.

At the sight of it, all of his doubts disappeared.

Oh, yes, this would be glorious! And so, so worth it.


	4. A Boy and His Car: Kayla's Side

Story Title: A Boy and His Car: Kayla's Side

Series Title: A Boy and His Car

Author: Mathais

Rating: T

Fandom: Power Rangers

Warnings: None

Pairings: None

Summary: Kayla never understood someone so well as when she traded blows with them.

Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers and the things associated with it; they belong to Saban.

**OoOoO**

"Too slow!" Kayla called as she ducked beneath Justin's high kick, shifting herself so she was inside his guard while he recovered. But Justin turned his kick into a twist that dodged away from Kayla's retaliatory blow, taking a couple steps back to put some distance between the two of them.

Kayla panted slightly as she surveyed her opponent, while Justin looked steely as he stared her down. Kayla had known what she was getting into when she called for this spar—Justin was a _black belt_, a black belt who could hold off Pihranatrons. Hell, he'd held off Cogs by himself too. There was no denying that Justin was good.

What was disappointing was how sloppy Justin had become. The speed he moved at, the openings he left... There was no doubt that Justin was physically stronger, but he was more reckless. Angrier.

Where the hell was that skilled fighter she'd seen? The one who she'd looked up to? Who she'd admired?

Kayla launched forward with a distance-eating jumping sidekick. Instead of dodging it as she intended, he stepped forward and moved into the attack, sliding into her guard with a punishing left hook.

Kayla barely managed an awkward block that sent fire racing down her arms and was forced to use her natural flexibility to regain her footing, after catching and locking Justin's wrists.

"The hell was that?" Kayla demanded. "That was shit reckless and you know it."

Justin's eyes burned. "It would have worked."

"Against _me_, maybe," Kayla scoffed, "but what if I was better, huh? You trying to get yourself brained?"

Justin simmered, wrists shaking, and Kayla knew she had to let go. She leapt backward, putting some space between them as Justin breathed out explosively. Like an oncoming wave, Justin dove at her again, copying her jump kick with more finesse. Because she wasn't as batshit insane as he was, she full out dodged the attack with a step to the side and intended for retaliation when Justin landed, pivoted on his feet, and kicked once more, this time aiming at her legs.

For all the skill needed to pull off that recovery and attack, he left himself wide open. She stepped around his attack, jabbing her elbow into his side in a chastising but painful blow. She didn't get her guard up in time for his return strike and took a hit to the stomach, but it only a fraction of the strength it could have been.

They continued to trade blows back and forth, and though Justin's hits were still coming out strong and fast, she noticed that he was becoming sharper as they went. Even when her lungs started to burn from the effort, she was grimly satisfied to see Justin starting to relax.

Relax might not have been the right term, Kayla amended in her head as what seemed like a clean hit was brutally blocked, with a fist aiming for her stomach not a moment later. She grabbed his wrist and twisted out of the way, and then Justin broke free and retreated to survey her once more.

Justin was more focused, losing himself in the ebb and flow of fighting. The ever-present pain Justin carried seemed to lighten a little with each blow struck, dodged, or blocked.

She knew the others had their own ways. Fred was content to talk, Nico, to silent support.

Kayla, though?

Kayla was never more at home with someone than she was with them like this.

Every hit was a message Justin broadcast. Every strike, every blow was a way Kayla could understand him.

There was grief. A deep-seated grief covered by anger and hate. Justin transmitted that with every blow.

Nico could give Justin his support. Fred could draw him out of his shell.

Kayla could give Justin the outlet it he needed.

It was the least she could do.

She kept that in mind as she caught Justin's wrist when he overextended and, with a slightly mocking smirk, kicked his legs out from underneath him. "Getting sloppy there."

Further taunts died in her throat when she caught sight of Justin's eyes. They looked beyond her, seeing something that she could not.

"Fuck," she whispered under her breath.

And then she had to move when Justin broke out of her grip and spun against the ground, with her barely evading his sweep kick. She quickly found herself almost unable able to block the blows Justin rained down on her, too fast for her to dodge. There was a desperate, animalistic fury in the way he moved, struggling against a superior foe or foes. Though she could only spare a little bit of attention, Kayla noticed the way that Justin's eyes flickered to and fro, as if he was surrounded and was futilely searching for a way out all alone.

But you were never supposed to be alone.

Kayla felt the familiar stirrings of anxiety along with a certain type of fear she had only known since the day she started her first suicide watch shift outside of Justin's room. This was what she was battling with. It was better now, far better, but he was still...

She paused and thought, _"He's so broken."_

Her inattention cost her. Kayla's much abused arms slipped, and it was enough for Justin to get a shot in. The world rang as blinding pain smacked her in the face and sent her sprawling against the ground, dazed. As she got her bearings, she heard Justin's pained groan as he too fell, and then Kayla was moving. Without any input from her mind beyond the fact that Justin was in danger, she leapt to her feet and aimed a roundhouse kick. It was only after her target sunk to the ground with pained groan and she planted herself between it and Justin did she realize that it was Rocky, the one who had taught her for years.

She didn't lose her stance.

Because while Rocky may have been her teacher in her past, Justin was her current teacher and more of a friend than Rocky ever was or would be.

**OoOoO**

"The thing about fighting against a group is that you can never really stay in one place. Unless you're in a defensible location, you'll be surrounded and attacked from behind if you try to hold one position."

Kayla dodged a sandbag to the back, right before she nearly got brained by another tossed from above.

"One of the most important things you can have is spatial awareness. Anything and everything can be used against you—"

She tripped over a crack in the ground and took a painful chastisement when a bag of sand dropped right on top of her.

"—or _for_ you."

Through the reflection of a piece of broken glass on the ground, she saw a barrage aimed for her back. Kayla rolled against the ground and dodged.

"You can't expend too much energy dealing with every little threat—"

Arms burning, Kayla blocked what seemed like the hundredth projectile, only to realize it wasn't a sand bag but a light bouncy ball.

"—otherwise you won't have the strength to deal with the real problems."

She hissed as by rapid-fire whiffle balls hit her side faster than she could dodge.

"But too little—"

Expecting another ball, Kayla twisted and smacked the incoming projectile.

"—and you won't make it past the obstacle at hand."

She gave a small cry as she hit sandbag instead, pushing her wrist the wrong way.

"In the end, the best thing you can do is figure out whether to dodge—"

Kayla twisted around a particularly heavy sandbag.

"—block—"

She took the brunt of a bouncy ball but didn't waver.

"—or attack—"

She knocked away another two.

"—in the most efficient manner possible."

Kayla swept in and kicked the target in the side, knocking it clean off the crate.

"Once you have that down, the rest is experience."

Kayla breathed in deep, trying to calm her nerves, but she was still psyched from the adrenaline. She practically vibrated in place as she watched Justin climb down from the rafters, a small smile on his face.

Small, but present.

Kayla, flushed from exertion, grinned even wider.

"You did good, Kayla." Complements from Justin, especially now, were like pulling teeth. He didn't believe in heaping praise on the undeserving; being a black belt at his age meant as much. She tried not to show how much his praise affected him, but she was pretty sure her eyes were lighting up.

"Thanks so much for helping me. No one really wanted to."

Justin shook off her response. "You asked. The least I could do was this."

But it was no small thing. Kayla knew that, when most people looked at her, they saw a girl. Martial artist she may have been, but no one wanted to get down and dirty with her, not even other girls.

Except Justin.

Justin taught lessons intermingled with bruises and pain. He wasn't afraid to hurt her when teaching, and he accepted similar pains when he himself slipped. No one she knew did the same, and Kayla learned so much better this way. When, at the end of the day, her body ached like hell and was covered in bruises, Kayla felt her absolute best. Sore, worn out, but brimming with power. It was like this she felt most at peace.

As she smiled at Justin, she wondered if it was the same for him.

"There's something else I want to try," he said. Though his pose, leaning against a crate, was stoic, Kayla saw the amusement in his eyes. "There's still more to teach, but spatial awareness is where most of it begins."

"I'm up for more!"

"Good. I'm going to provide an example, but I want you up in the rafters out of range."

A demonstration! Kayla gleefully scampered up the ladder to the overhangs of the abandoned warehouse Justin had set up this training course in, eager to see what Justin had in store. She perched herself carefully in one of the spots that would let her see everything.

"This lesson works off of spatial awareness. We're going into improvisation now. Once you know what's around you, you can use it to your advantage. Or you can create advantages where you used to have disadvantages."

Under Kayla's intent gaze, Justin sparred against invisible foes. She watched and analyzed and _learned_ as he swept through the room like a tsunami, ducking and weaving between crates and sandbags left behind.

Her breath caught as he somersaulted and picked up a metal pipe in one smooth motion. When he was back on his feet, he was already swinging.

It was beautiful.

So enraptured by his movement, Kayla almost didn't notice when Quantrons burst in, hostages—mostly kids their age and younger—in tow. But she did, and she and Justin exchanged a look that said everything they needed to.

Justin twirled his pipe before launching it at her. Kayla, scrambling down the ladder, caught it in midair. Metal scraped against her hand, but she didn't care as she spun and tripped a Quantron. Kayla leapt over an attacking Quantron and found herself at Justin's back when he launched himself over a crate to kick a Quantron in the head.

"What do we do?" Kayla asked, one eye on their enemies as they spun in a slow circle.

"Free the hostages and then leave," Justin answered grimly. "Looks like you're going to get an object lesson."

Kayla loosened her stance as her blood began to heat up. "Looks like. I'm going after the hostages."

"I'll draw their attention," Justin said and then became a blur of motion. Kayla danced around several Quantrons, trusting her weapon to do what she didn't have the strength to perform barehanded. Seeing an opening, she backed herself up against a crate before leaping into the air and onto it, just as a Quantron struck at her with its weapon. The blade got stuck in the crate's wood, and Kayla swung low to knock it out. From her position atop the crate, she watched the Quantrons be drawn to Justin's significantly larger threat, and so she hopped across the crates to get where she needed to. The added height gave her a better view of the room, and few Quantrons wanted to meet her there. Though her legs and arms were nothing but giant throbbing limbs of pain, Kayla pushed herself forward and grabbed one of the chain links Justin used to launch sandbags at her. She swung across the room, though part of her kept an eye Justin.

He moved like he knew what it was to fight for his life. He ducked and weaved and dodged, never staying in one place, and let the Quantrons hurt themselves and each other far more than he actually hit them himself. He caught a chain and twisted it around a Quantron's weapon, redirecting it into another Quantron's stomach. It was by far the simplest thing he did.

But there were weaknesses in the way he moved. Even as she crouched down next to the hostages, she could see the way Justin left his back open, the way he moved as if there should be someone next to him. Though he was quick to cover those openings...

...it was heartbreaking.

"Head out the back, be quiet, and then get as far away from here as possible," she whispered.

The kids took a little more prodding, but they eventually managed to take off. Kayla turned in time to see Justin take a blow across the face, and then she took off too.

She'd already spent an hour doing hard physical labor. She had bruises on her bruises, her limbs ached, and her vision blurred from exhaustion at times. She was running purely on adrenaline at this point.

None of it mattered.

Kayla fought her way to where the Quantrons now surrounded Justin, and she took down the one that was aiming for his head. One eye on the surrounding enemies, Kayla knelt and offered her hand. "The kids are free."

Justin didn't quite smile, but his eyes lightened in spite of the grim look on his face. "It's time to leave then. You ready?"

Kayla grinned.

Justin dove into the crowd, punching and kicking his way through the pack. Kayla was right at his heels, making sure his back was protected as she did her fair share of fighting. Justin spun left, ducking underneath a Quantron's punch, and Kayla was immediately in the opening. She dropped it with one blow to the unprotected stomach. She stepped away from another Quantron's rush, which left it open for Justin's clothesline to the chin.

The two of them fought their way to the exit, just as the Rangers rushed in. Though Kayla dearly wanted to stay and watch, she had to follow Justin, who had paled and run at the sight of them.

Adrenaline was quickly fading, leaving behind only the burn in her body and lungs. Her hair stuck in clumps and tangles, she was bleeding from various abrasions, and she wanted nothing more than a hot shower before she collapsed into bed, but Kayla dug deep into herself and kept pace with Justin.

Justin eventually stopped in a secluded section of the park, where he stood with his head bowed. Almost tentatively, Kayla walked to his side.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her tone soft.

Justin visibly struggled with his words, conflict plain on his face. When Justin opened his mouth and began with, "I can't—" Kayla stopped him.

She heard what she needed to.

The implication that he would if he could was enough for her.

"It's all right. I learned something else today."

Justin's eyes were so broken when they looked at her, but she steeled herself and met him head on.

"It's so much easier when you have someone at your back."

Kayla held her breath as they locked gazes. Neither spoke in the ensuing silence.

Not with words anyway.

Something in Justin's eyes shifted as she watched. They weren't healed, not by any stretch of the imagination.

For a second, just a second, she thought that they better. A little less broken, a little more whole.

And when a smile, not a grin or a smirk but a genuine _smile_, twitched at the ends of his mouth, Kayla felt herself answering in kind.

"Yes," Justin said, voice low. "It is. Here, I'll help get you home."

He offered her his hand.

Smiling so wide her cheeks ached, Kayla took it.

**OoOoO**

Kayla didn't lower her fists as she stood between Justin and Rocky, protecting the former and staring down the latter.

"Kayla?" Rocky wheezed out. "What? Why?"

"You won't get near Justin," she hissed. "You won't touch him, you won't—"

"He was hurting you!" Rocky interrupted, pain, not just physical, on his face. "He shouldn't—"

"It was a spar," Kayla shot back. "It was a spar, and..."

She quickly glanced back, and her heart sunk the moment she saw Justin realize what was happening. He was closing himself off again, sealing away both his anger and pain until he was numb. Blank. Impossible to work with, to reason with.

Impossible to heal.

All of the work she'd done. Gone. The progress in getting him to open up.

Kayla felt a growl build in her throat and her fists shake.

"Do you realize what you just did?" She knelt and grabbed Rocky by the collar of his shirt. Though she knew distantly that the only reason she could do this was because Rocky was letting her, her anger overrode it. "You're not helping!"

Sad eyes pleaded. "If he's hurting bad enough to lash out—"

"—then let him lash out!" Kayla shouted. "It's better than him hiding away! It's better than him locking it all down, shutting _himself_ down. And that's what he does when you all get involved."

"We've hurt him," Rocky said quietly. "I know we've hurt him."

"And I don't want to see you," Justin intervened, his voice cool and even. It doused the flames of Kayla's anger even as it sent a cold shiver up her spine.

She dropped Rocky and turned to Justin, who stood as still as stone. His eyes seemed placid on the surface, but Kayla could see the fragility behind them. Rocky was pushing him.

"Just leave me alone," he said. Justin spun on his heel and stalked off.

"You've done enough," Kayla snarled. "Let _us_ fix what you broke."

She didn't wait and see Rocky's face crumple and collapse on itself. Kayla rushed off to catch up with Justin, mind racing.

She would protect Justin, yes, even if it meant going up against people who she'd looked up to for a decent portion of her life.

Kayla would always have Justin's back.

Always.


End file.
